The Winter Tyrant-Chapter 15: First Blood

The next day Avery and Richard returned to the community center. The weekend had come and passed since this storm began and when it was supposed to end.

It had been nearly a week in total, and the blizzard continued to rage, yet it never waned. Instead, it grew fiercer with each passing day.

Avery shivered, feeling chilled to the bone despite multiple layers of clothing trying to block the cold from claiming her, relieved only by the heat of the community center. Whose heater was back online, not because power had been restored to the residence.

But instead, because the HOA had begun siphoning fuel from cars in the neighborhood to use in a generator they "commandeered" off a particularly naïve resident citing the collective good as their justification.

It was the first time in days that Avery felt well and truly warm, practically falling to her knees in relief as she felt the cool, dry air of the building’s central heater dispel the cold that threatened to paralyze her body from within.

Richard dragged the woman to her feet by her arm, having no patience for her performance at this very moment. And it was only when they entered the center of the building that they found the scene was far from lively or hopeful.

In the center lay a folded blanket, and within it was a scene too ghastly to give voice to. A woman cried in her husband’s shoulders, while even Avery averted her gaze. Residents gathered around to express their condolences and to say their prayers for the recently departed.

Richard said nothing as he stood silently by Avery’s side, all the while the HOA president stalked behind them.

"Tragic, is it not?"

Avery looked over her shoulder to find the bespectacled, middle-aged woman standing there, gazing at the scene of mourning unfolding.

Their infant was sickly before the snow first fell... But as the storm waged on, their ability to feed and care for the child became more difficult. Ultimately, it was the cold that took their child in the middle of the night while they slept. I can only imagine what they are going through..."

Avery stared back over at the blanket in shock; it only now just dawning on her just how dangerous this storm really was.

And it was then that a voice erupted from within the crowd.

"This didn’t need to happen.... This is all his fault!"

Nobody needed to ask who the man was talking about, not after yesterday’s events. Another voice quickly chimed in, grief quickly spiraling into rage.

"That’s right! If he had just given a bit of his medicine and maybe allowed the child to stay in the warmth of his home for a few days, none of this would have happened! This blood is on his hands!"

The HOA president’s lips curled into a sneer as she shot Avery a subtle but knowing gaze. Even Avery felt a bit uncomfortable at how quickly this woman was willing to spin such a tragic loss of a child to her purposes.

But... If this child could die due to the conditions of the storm, then any of them could be next... right?

Avery took a deep breath and instantly changed into character, voicing her righteous indignation as she did so.

"I am sorry... this is my fault...."

All eyes quickly glanced over at her, the fire in their eyes not the least bit stoked by this admission of guilt. If anything, they nearly pounced on her like rabid dogs, or they would have if she weren’t swift enough to redirect their anger back towards Dean to a much greater degree.

"He is my fiancé... And yet, I never knew... How depraved and selfish he truly was..."

She quickly removed the glove on her left hand, showing off the engagement ring that Dean had given her a few months prior.

She was quick to strip off the ring and toss it aside. While looking up at each and every face gathered.

"But he is my fiancé no longer! He is not the man I knew! He is a monster who hoards supplies and seeks to extort us, even as we drop like flies around him! It’s become clear to me now that it is either him or us!"

The mob reacted exactly as Avery had expected them to.

"I say we go arm ourselves and tear down his door! Seizing whatever that bastard has for the common good!"

"No man has the right to sit upon so many resources while the rest of us starves! There must be justice! He must be held accountable for this tragedy!"

"Murderer!"

"Thief"

"Fiend!"

The HOA president placed a hand on Avery’s shoulder amid the chaos, and spoke just loud enough that only the two of them had heard her words while the shouting continued to drown it out.

"Well played..."

---

Dean had just finished eating breakfast with Yuki when the app on his home connected to his local hardened intranet network provided him with a brief alert. Somebody had crossed the threshold of no return... And from the amount of hits he was getting it was more than just a solitary aggressor.

"Yuki... head to your room and keep your head down... I’ll be right back."

The moment Yuki heard these words she immediately halted what she was doing and sprinted up the stairs, hiding in her room and locking it behind her. All the while giving silent prayers for Dean and her safety.

Dean headed to his room and immediately donned his body armor, as well as his helmet. He did not grab his drone. Instead, he reached for the weapon best suited to ending what was unfolding.

He looped around the corner of his balcony and brought the PKM up onto its bipod, the belt already seated.

Through the falling snow, he could see them clearly now: a crude line advancing through knee-deep drifts. The mob carried whatever weapons they could find with hostile intent.

Crowbars, tire irons, Molotovs, and a few rifles scattered between them.

Cold air moved through his mask as he exhaled slowly. He didn’t rush; instead he identified.

The man fumbling with the Molotov came first.

The audible click of the safety disengaging was swallowed by the wind. The charging handle snapped forward with mechanical finality. Dean settled the 3.5x optic onto the man’s chest as the lighter sparked uselessly against the wind.

He squeezed.

The first burst shattered the morning.

The recoil thudded steadily into his shoulder, disciplined, controlled. The man jerked violently as the bottle slipped from his hands, vanishing into the snow before it could ignite.

For a split second, he looked confused; as if the impact had been delayed. Then the red began to spread beneath his layers, dark against white.

He collapsed without ever finishing the thought.

The crowd froze, and someone shouted, "He’s bluffing!"

Another rifle came up too late. Dean shifted left and fired a second controlled burst. Then a third.

The sound echoed between houses, flattened by snow and swallowed by wind. Men trying to shoulder their weapons were cut down mid-motion, their shots going wild into siding and shutters.

One round hit the wall and came apart in a spray of dust and metal fragments, leaving little more than a pale scar in the brick.

Dean did not flinch; the movement drew his fire. Anyone still standing and armed was a target.

The line disintegrated as quickly as the shots began. What had looked like resolve a moment earlier turned into bodies stumbling through powder, tripping over each other, falling as the snow swallowed their legs and stole their footing.

Some tried to run, some dropped what they carried, and some kept moving with weapons still in hand.

Dean walked the fire across them, short, disciplined bursts. He was not spraying, nor was he panicking. He simply cut down organized resistance wherever it showed itself.

The snow churned red and white in violent contrast while screams rose and were immediately swallowed by wind and gunfire.

In the rear, the HOA president stood frozen, the scene unraveling faster than her mind could process. Avery screamed as the first of the front ranks folded in on themselves.

"Gain control of yourself!" the President shouted, though her voice trembled now. "Surely the police will respond after such a—"

The sentence ended mid-word.

A sharp crack split the air again, and she stiffened as though yanked by an invisible wire. The life drained from her eyes almost instantly. Her body went slack and collapsed backward into Avery, dragging her down into the snow beneath the spreading stain.

For a moment, there was nothing but disjointed movement.

Men crawling.

Someone dragging himself behind a vehicle.

A rifle half-buried in powder.

Dean kept firing while shapes continued to move in a coordinated direction toward his structure. When the last armed figure dropped his weapon and disappeared behind a drift, Dean held his sight there for another breath.

No one advanced. No one returned fire. The only motion left was panicked scrambling away from the kill zone.

Richard had already broken, abandoning the line entirely. He threw himself through the snow, stumbling, falling, clawing his way toward the side street without looking back.

Avery lay beneath the HOA president’s body, gasping, struggling to push the dead weight off her as blood soaked through her coat. She screamed for Richard; but he was already gone.

Dean did not pursue. He would not be so foolish as to abandon his position. He stood there and scanned the aftermath of the slaughter; waiting while he counted the moments between gunfire.

After a long half-minute with no organized movement, no muzzle flashes, and no advance, he eased off the trigger.

The wind reclaimed the street, carrying the scent of death on its frosted kiss. Bodies lay scattered in uneven lines where resolve had once stood.

Some groaned, and others were utterly silent.

Dean watched through the optic another moment longer, ensuring no one was rising with a weapon in hand.

Then he stepped back from the bipod, flipped the safety, and withdrew inside.

He did not confirm kills, nor did he check the bodies.

He did not need to.

The threshold had been crossed; and he had answered it with finality.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.